27 September 2010

Hoping to find enough gold to make a wedding band for Mark, we procured a fancy metal detector and headed for the "Golden Triangle"

( not the South-east Asian opium one- I mean the Victorian Goldfields- the richest in the world...)

Well... we found very little gold, so I'll happily disclose the location!

Beeeeep! Mark found this iron bridge and a truck

Which turned out to be the Taradale railway bridge- quite spectacular...

I chose this location because according to the geological survey maps, two major quartz reefs converge here and there are historic gold-workings on the hillside everywhere.( Homework is essential in this pursuit. I should probably have done more). Lots of history also means lots of trash! We dug up an old scythe blade and some hand-cuffs on the hill, amongst other things...

I didnt take many photos- too busy digging little holes and trying to leave things just as we found them...

Heh- we got stuck behind this old Chewton digger for about 500m, who was just chooglin' along the road on his wheelchair. Where on earth was he going?? His dogs seemed to be barking to him "master!...master!! there's some city boys behind you- git outta the way! I seed the gold fever in them eyes!"

14 September 2010

12 September 2010

Thanks: to everyone who visited the show, to Katie for her hospitality, to Emma for sharing the floor so elegantly and extra special thanks to those who gave support; you enable me to keep going- much appreciated!

8 September 2010

6 September 2010

Its nothing... just a beekeeper's veil that got the bottom 'skirt' burnt off in a spectacular adventure.

My Dad has been known to get quite excited about a swarm of bees.

He'll straight up catch them and then add them to his hives.

One time, we were on holiday and Dad saw a swarm in a bush on the side of the road.

He emptied a suitcase, snapped it over the swarm, and plum just carried it home.

Legendary.

So, anyway, I'm getting the mail out of my mail box, right?

And bees start flying out instead of cell phone bills. So I call Dad, and he is quite excited.

He comes around with his smoker and veil and some kind of box.

His plan ( what he called it) is that I shovel the bees out of the mail box in one lump and into his box- and he is going to shut the lid.

Ok. I'm pretty cool-headed.

So he lights up his smoker. (From memory, pine-needles are the fuel of choice.)

Dad is getting pretty worked up by now and forgets about the pine needles and the smoker...and... somehow the whole thing is on fire... and his veil, on the ground next to it- some kind of nylon- is burning up too!!

We stamp it out.

He is very disappointed about his old veil. He's had it since before I was born. In a weird role reversal I gently say- "We'll fix it." Carrying on, Dad opens the mail box, I shovel the swarm out and into the box- in one, graceful, fluid motion- they all go bananas and fly off onto some tree branch.

Epic fail?

No!- Dad busts off the branch, catches the swarm in the box, and.... AND....

we have a cup of tea, then he takes home his new bees.

Schwepps! ( Bear Grylls aint the Neales- did you see how his face got all stung ?!)

So...

I'm going to fix the burnt veil. Maybe with some kind of Hmong or Lahu embroidered crazy fabrics- or how about some Japanese indigo? Any thoughts?